poem

my last exam is on friday...hollah!!!! (no, I don't actually say that in real life) This semester has been in palliative care and loads of movies on death and dying in class....seriously my prof is not happy unless we leave class bawling...THEN, yes, THEN made us write a grief paper and pour out our grief story; we couldn't not do this assignment or else we would fail the course...we were given a mark for our grief....I am not going to express how I feel about that paper and my mark because doing so would require words I don't normally use...then to pour salt on the wound the prof said that upon reading and marking each paper the papers were then erased from memory, the reason being we would not be seen as our grief, as in, "Oh, your that paper..." So, once again, verbal diarhea sent out into the universe only to be stamped out and erased by someone who read it...we are taught that nursing is not taking on your patients problems, so she released my grief to nothingness...the profs would have us believe we have enough on our plates, we have stressful work loads and jobs, therefor, we do not take on others problems...ever...because (short version) if you do that you will get sick and die. but then I remember that Jesus said if they ask you to walk one mile, walk two. He took our griefs and nailed them to a tree...but he was there too. Realistically I am not Jesus, but nurses get sick and die all the time even when they don't carry patients grief...and somewhere in all this rambling I think I have come to the conclusion that so many people do share my grief, so if my load is light, maybe I can share some other peoples too....basically although class would have me believe that I can live longer living for myself....I hope I forget that part and go back to gradeschool when I learned how important it is...to share things.

this poem is called...you think your special cause you can make me cry for a whole two hour class???? Well your not, I can make myself cry at the drop of a hat...so there...
on monday while this week you start 
I lay here, waiting to depart
on plastic matresses and white sheets
and soft murmuring lulls me
till I can no longer think
or tuesday with a storm approaching
thunder shatters, lightning crashing
this angry orchestral company
echo's the battle inside me
drowning, underneath I sink
wednesday too, would be alright
just hold me in arms tight
rock me back and forth again
with my grandma's aphgan
comfort, my last link
thursday at home in my bed
visions dancing in my head
of every moment, sweet and dear
now I fly far from here
eternity, on the brink
by chance on friday, I might go,
but as to when, no one knows

the tune to their parting song
till we meet again, not long
to this promise, drink
saturday, underneath the sun
golden, through a day of fun
slipping down to softly rest
on the horizon going west
silence; in hazy pink
but if on sunday
my final watch you keep
sing me to sleep
sing me to sleep
sing me to sleep